James' Duel
by twelvegrimmauldplace
Summary: Ever thought that James would've lasted longer against Voldemort? A take on what might've happened: James survived. Find out how and what happens when James goes back to find out about himself. Not the usual. Please Review!
1. Rendakadavra explained

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognise. Characters, places, spells – anything from the Harry Potter books are not mine. I am simply a poor student who had an idea that begged to be written!_

_This idea sprung from what Harry hears when the Dementors get near to him – to me it seemed weird that James didn't last any longer than he did against Voldemort. I imagined him as a powerful wizard, and as he had evaded Voldemort 3 times I thought that he would've been able to at least keep Voldemort occupied for a while. So, here is my story, which is what might have happened to James, but almost certainly didn't. Please read, enjoy and review!_

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**James' Duel**

_Rendakadavra _

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San stared around the island of Rendakadavra. The sandy shores, beautiful mountain ranges, colourful fields and at ease atmosphere meant that the island was easily mistaken to be a paradise. Having lived on Rendakadavra for as long as he could remember, San knew otherwise.

People went to live on Rendakadavra to escape their previous lives. Some left their partners and family homes, some left behind their criminal records – everybody seemed open to each other, yet nobody knew of anyone else's previous life before they became an islander. Only those born on the island were really known by anyone.

Below the laid back atmosphere was the tension. It hung in the air like a heavy cloud and refused, point blank, to budge. Those with previous convictions were scared of being found, those with partners were scared of being found, those with terrible secrets refused to let themselves be found. They were the ones who were always ready to leave at a second's notice. Their worry came from not wanting to leave.

After a while, the easiness with which each day passed and the underlying tension and guilt of the occupants became dull. The island wasn't huge – everyone knew everyone, a few new people arrived each year and a few tired of the island and finally left the supposed paradise.

Sitting on the beach became boring after a while. San had grown tired of the soft sand. Tired of the way that it stuck to everything, tired of the way that it always seemed to be there, tired of the way that it always looked the same. He longed for some pebbles to hurl into the calm sea, he longed to watch the calm sea ripple and splash, and he longed for something different to happen.

He wasn't married, he had no children and he felt as though he had nothing to live for. Every day was the same, every nighttime dream he had was the same and everything seemed to have little or no point at all. Truthfully, though he didn't usually like to admit it to himself, he felt hollow inside as though he was missing something. Sometimes, he jokingly told himself that he was missing flying on a broomstick and that maybe that was the reason why he dreamt about flying every night.

Islanders sometimes imagined that they knew each other. They knew that there was something about San that wasn't quite normal, but could never place their fingers on what exactly it was. The older ones remembered when San had arrived on the island. He had appeared on the beach, seemingly out of nowhere, and apparently hadn't been able to remember anything about his previous life. There had been a lot of speculation and gossip about whether this was actually true, though nobody ever ventured to question San about it. Nobody asked about anyone else's past. They all had something to hide and wanted to leave behind whatever they had been, or whatever had happened to them before they arrived on Rendakadavra. It made the island more peaceful, or, in San's opinion, more dull - incredibly dull.

San was short for Jason, the name that had been given to San by islanders when he had arrived at the island with apparently no memory. He insisted on being called San because he felt it made him more individual. It didn't really. It just felt different to being called Jason, and San wanted change.

Tourists didn't venture to Rendakadavra. The locals were not accommodating to tourists. There were no hotels, chalets, caravans or any temporary accommodation for tourists to stay in. There were no shops in which to buy groceries. Rendakadavra was unwelcoming to temporary residents, mainly because of the anonymity of the islanders. Seeing a familiar face from the past could upset a resident's peaceful life.

New people who ventured to the island, therefore, had to work hard to show that they were not a mere tourist. They built their own places to live, grew their own food and made their own clothes. Part of island life was the constant, yet friendly bartering of excess produce. Those who weren't born to make clothes grew extra food and swapped with those who could stitch with one hand tied behind their back.

San couldn't make clothes. He could grow food easily enough, but his main talent was really something else. As he long for different things to happen, he used scraps and basically anything that he could find, to make 'prank' items. How he was so good at it was a mystery to everyone and was a large factor in why many of them refused to believe that he had lost his memory.

As San was the best, and only maker of prank items, his products were highly valuable. Islanders respected him for his unique talent and the younger ones often begged San to take them on as apprentices. San didn't. Though he longed for variation, he didn't long for company. He liked to daydream and conjure up pictures of his life before he came to Rendakadavra. He imagined himself in different jobs, in different countries, in different families and sometimes he even imagined himself sailing the seven seas. At least being a Pirate bought something different everyday.

After years, fourteen long years stretching to feel more like twenty-eight, San decided that he'd had enough. He wanted to live his daydreams, or at least some of them. He wanted to find people who had known him before, who could help to bring back his absent memory. He wanted to live life to the max.

As he made his leaving plans, he spent time strolling along the beach, thinking of pebbly beaches with fairs, piers and amusement arcades. He remembered his country of origin – England – it was evident from his accent, and knowing that he was English triggered the memories of the country. He remembered the cities and what it was like to live there, he just didn't remember who he had been; he couldn't see where he fitted in.

A new person, a young weedy boy who was forgetful with names, unfortunately for San, seemed to like something about him. Maybe San was what the young lad wanted to be when he grew up – _if _he ever grew up.

The boy wracked his brains for the name of the prankster who was currently strolling along the beach with his hands in his pockets, kicking up the sand to cause mini whirlwinds. He found the name and congratulated himself. He turned and yelled at the top of his voice.

"JAMES!"

San span round, quick as a flash, and was about the get seriously pissed off, when his brain seemed to pull him elsewhere. He flopped to the sand and watched what he supposed to be a memory unfold and play like a film inside his head.

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_Jason stood in a large hallway, hiding behind a suit of armour, rejoicing at the majorly successful prank that he and his friends had just managed to pull. It was hard not to whoop or laugh out loud, but he knew that blowing his cover would instantly take the edge and excitement away from the brilliant prank. He stayed still until the caretaker had passed, checked his map to make sure that nobody was heading his way and pulled the invisibility cloak off of himself. As the summer nights were stiflingly hot, Jason didn't wear the cloak unless absolutely necessary. He and his friends had each completed their own part in the prank at separate times, so Jason was equipped with both the map and cloak._

_He stood up, stretched, let out a stray yawn, and decided to head for the kitchens. He turned round and found himself face to face with a stunning redhead. His breath caught in his throat, butterflies replaced the feeling of hunger in his stomach, and his legs felt like jelly. His tongue seemed to become tied and he stuttered intelligibly before deciding to wait for the girl to speak first. Sure he shouldn't have been roaming the corridors at this time of night, but neither should she. There was, therefore, no danger; no way his cover would be blown. He knew that this girl was not a prefect, he knew that she wouldn't want to get into trouble if she didn't need to, but he couldn't quite fathom what had happened to his body._

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_The girl opened her mouth to speak-_

"So, James," Said the young, weedy boy. "Ready to teach me any amazing pranks yet?"

San's voice came back to him. Though he was annoyed with the boy, he was grateful of the triggered memory.

"Sorry, youngun, maybe some other time."

With that, he wrenched himself into a standing position and stalked off in the direction of his house.

And that was how it all started. San's battle with his memory, the battle that went on inside his head and was rarely won. However much effort he put into it, he could never remember just like that. It needed triggering by others.


	2. In which James remembers a little more a...

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognise. Characters, places, spells – anything from the Harry Potter books are not mine. I am simply a poor student who had an idea that begged to be written!_

_Thanks to everyone who submitted a review! _

**Nikki101: **I didn't really think about Peter when I wrote about that boy, but thinking about it now, he does sort of cling on like Peter would (in my opinion). He won't be in it for much longer anyway! Thanks!

**HeartOfBlack: **Hehe - 'though unlikely'! Thanks - 1 chapter _was _all that was here so far (until now!). Thanks for reviewing!

**Danz: **Update soon, you say? I am waiting for _you_ to update still! Hehe - thanks!

**Slytherin Rogue: **I know writer's block is a killer! - I really should be writing the next chapter of an original story that I have, but I just can't! Thanks!

**Pippy: **Not sure whether it would've been something romantic. Thanks for reviewing and I hope you got the results that you wanted from your GCSEs!

**moonanddogstar: **Hehe - I was actually going to call him Sand because he appeared on the beach one day, or maybe even Sandstone - so San really isn't that weird! (Not as weird as Long Moon Silver anyway!). Thanks!

**James' Duel**

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_The island of repressed souls_

As other people triggered his memories San started to become more sociable. In the weeks while he set about the immense task of building a decent boat, he found that the company of the other islanders bought change into his boring life. After the triggering of one memory, San longed for more and, in an attempt to achieve this, he asked the other islanders to call him James instead of Jason or San. He liked the name, it felt familiar, and the other islanders seemed to like him more for it. Picking his own name showed them, somehow, that he was genuine. To them, San sounded too anonymous. James suited Jason much better and made them feel that he was, in some way, accepting himself. And of course, the young lad who had been the first islander to call him James, felt important and altogether chuffed with himself.

James knew that James was his real name. However weird that sounded, the name, unlike Jason or San, felt like it was truly his. Though he hadn't yet had any more glimpses at his previous life, he knew that, when he did, people would call him James. Maybe he'd find out his last name too.

The first glimpse of his previous life had made him feel bad somehow. He thought that it should have felt good and maybe slightly fulfilling, but it made him feel hollower inside, like he'd lost something when he had apparently been gaining.

Out of the memory, he knew that the way that the redheaded girl had made him feel was his first taste of love, maybe his only taste.

Leaving the island to 'find' himself became a priority for James. He saw new people coming to the island and found himself feeling sorry for them. In his mind he renamed Rendakadavra '_the island of repressed souls'. _Everyone who lived on the island had something bad in their past, some reason why they had left their other homes, painful reasons that they never spoke of. They kept it hidden inside and never let it escape. They couldn't bring themselves to shed tears. In flesh they were living on a paradise island, in theirs hearts they were living their own personal hells. James wanted to know what his was. However much it hurt, he needed to know.

The annual fireworks night on the island was something not to be missed, especially as James would almost certainly have left the island by the same time next year. Islanders gave things to Christoff, the island's only firework maker, in order to allow him to use his produce in public. James donated generously every year, as he loved fireworks. Christoff loved James' prank items and this was the main incentive for the firework display to be the best. Christoff wanted to show that he had as much talent, mysteriousness and ingeniousness about him as James. Everyone thought that Christoff's talent for firework displays was natural. It wasn't. It came from years of practise as an arsonist before he ventured to the island.

The arsonist part, without Christoff realising, was often reflected in the designs of his displays. Everyone immensely enjoyed the annual firework night and James became entranced by the dancing patterns and loud screeches that some of them emitted before they popped into a shower of sparkles in the dark night sky. He knew it was because they reminded him of something, but however much he tried to remember, he had no clue what it was.

The grand finale of green fireworks – green being the 'official Rendakadavra colour' – was, for most, the best part of the evening. Different types of green fireworks flew through the sky above the islanders, creating intricate patterns, which reminded James of the map from his first flashback. Fizzes, crackles, pops, screeches, wails, zips, squeals, and the general sounds of awe from the gathered crowd could be heard.

Then silence. The islanders stood in utter and complete amazement, staring up at the green skull with a snake protruding from it's mouth hanging above them, filling the black sky with it's eerie bright green. James was the only one who did anything. He turned and ran back to his house.

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_James saw the eerie green sign on an attack above the house of a family of innocent muggles, and though he was now almost accustomed to the terrible sight, he still felt sick to his stomach. He imagined the family and friends, the unknowingness and the huge gap that they would suffer from the wrath of Voldemort and his dodgy band of Death Eaters. He counted his blessings that none of his family had been killed._

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But he couldn't remember who his family were. 

The next flashback was triggered by something entirely different to the first and second and was, therefore, highly unexpected by James. As he walked past some houses he saw a woman standing in the doorway of one waiting for her husband to return home. In her arms she held a young boy. James found a memory coming to him as the boy's father returned home and swept him into his arms. He watched the young boy smile and gurgle happily, and became lost in the past.

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_James felt an immense rush of love and a strong desire to protect the baby that Lily had placed into his arms. The small weight of the baby was nothing compared to the weight of the responsibility that he felt. He had to protect his son from all the evils of the world and from Voldemort, no matter what. His son's hair bore a striking resemblance to his own. The baby blue eyes had yet to change colour, if they did at all, but he hoped that they would be like Lily's. He caught Lily smiling widely at him and knew that his smile was even wider. He felt happier than he had ever been before._

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That was the memory that finally confirmed and decided for him that his wish to leave the island was right. He had to find out what had happened to Lily and his son, see if they were still alive and, if possible, get to know them again.

He set about constructing his leaving boat with renewed vigour, spending nearly every waking hour chopping wood, gluing, nailing and varnishing. Sometimes people watched him and admired him for facing up to his inner turmoil. Some just dismissed him as crazy.

James swapped his prank items and extra food for the materials that he needed to make the engine of his boat. He worked swiftly, in a rushed frenzy, but never made a mistake. Luckily, his engine design worked, leading him to suspect that he might have been a mechanic in his previous life. He dismissed this idea as quickly as it came to him, as he was quite sure that a mechanic would never have heard of muggles or Voldemort or Death Eaters, whatever they were. He had no time left for daydreams now, but if he had then he would have dreamt of being a detective or undercover agent of some sort.

Finally, after months of work, James' boat was ready to sail and fully seaworthy. He packed the few belongings that he wished to take with him, gave people his left over prank items as presents, and knocked down his house. Even though he had built it, he didn't feel attached to it in any way. One of the few rules that were in place on the island said that once a person left their house had to be knocked down. Otherwise, the house could become a place of residence for a temporary person, who didn't deserve it, and had absolutely no intention of staying.

James stepped aboard his magnificent boat and waved goodbye to the islanders that had gathered to wish him farewell. He turned on the engine, directed the boat away from the island and sailed towards his memory and the awful truth that awaited him in England.


	3. Sailing, Skinny dipping and arriving at ...

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognise. Characters, places, spells – anything from the Harry Potter books are not mine. I am simply a poor student who had an idea that begged to be written!_

_With thanks to leiselmae, LuciShadow, Slytherin Rogue, Danz and Nikki101. _

_Tanya_

**James' Duel**

_Life on the Lake Wave_

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James wasn't bad at driving the boat; it was only when he decided to go at breakneck speed that he narrowly avoided a huge cruise liner and also death. After the first day of sailing he stopped the boat at an island so that he could buy a world map and get some rest.

Rendakadavra wasn't on the world map. James hadn't expected it to be. Instead, he found the place where he currently was and then found England. He plotted his route on the map and settled down for a nights sleep.

As the waves gently swayed the boat from side to side, James tossed and turned, thinking of what his previous life may have been like. What if something terrible had happened to his family? What if they didn't want to know him? He thought of thousands of 'what if?' questions and felt his stomach give a sick lurch. What if he was evil? He sincerely hoped he wasn't. He hoped that evilness would be felt in one's heart – he couldn't feel any.

When he eventually fell asleep it wasn't for long. He slept only a few hours at a time and woke from each feeling just the same as he had before he had slept. In the end he got up and made himself a small pot of tea. He poured the whole pot into a huge mug and poured some milk in afterwards. He sat sipping slowly and found himself relaxing. The tea reminded him of something – maybe he had drunk tea at home. Whenever he had drunk tea on the island it had felt somewhat familiar to him. Until recently, it was the closest he had ever been to remembering any of his past.

With the tea finished, sleep took over. His dreams were happy, made him smile throughout the night and allowed him to wake up with a picture of Lily in his mind. Why they had been in a castle he couldn't quite fathom.

James set off the next day smiling and whistling to himself. He tried to turn his thoughts away from his destination and thought of living at sea instead. He imagined himself as a pirate onboard a ship that had Waltzers and sang some pirate tunes that he found he knew from somewhere.

He carried on through the night and the next day, and docked the boat in a small bay. He dipped some of his clothes in the water and draped them over the sides of the boat to dry before stripping and diving into the water. Unfortunately, this was when the next flashback happened.

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_James found himself in a four-poster bed. He rolled over sleepily and felt himself drift off again. Less than a minute later, he felt somebody shaking him frantically. He pulled himself away from the shaker and tried to get back to sleep again._

James!_" Someone said, in an urgent whisper._

_Apparently James knew who this person was and replied with: "Piss off Sirius."_

_This did no good. "James? Have you forgotten the bet?"_

_James thought, couldn't remember any bets and tried to yank to curtains shut to block out Sirius._

_"Hey!" Sirius wasn't going to be got rid of _that _easily. He let out an obviously heavy sigh and took it upon himself to explain to the sleepy James. "Does skinny dipping ring a bell?"_

_Uh-oh thought James. That was when he realised that he was still wearing all of his clothes and that he felt quite less than sober. He remembered the bet of roughly ten minutes ago, when the girls' had bet him twenty Galleons that he wouldn't go skinny dipping in the lake, in the middle of winter, with the giant squid._

_James was no fool. He thought that he might as well have the extra twenty Galleons that the girls' had offered, so he had agreed and shook on the bet. _

_He catapulted himself out of bed, strode down to the common room, through the corridors (taking a few secret passageways of course) and out to the lake. The girls where already there waiting and thinking, from the looks on their faces, that there was no way that he'd actually do it. Boy, was he going to prove them wrong._

_He took off his coat, jumper, shoes and socks first, then his t-shirt and jeans, at which he received a series of impressed wolf whistles from the girls. Not being shy, he couldn't resist turning round and waving at them. He saw Lily slowly turning a bright crimson._

_He took off his boxers to a chorus of loud wolf whistling and dived into the lake._

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When James resurfaced from the memory, he found that he had sunk to the bottom of the sea. He came to his senses and quickly swam to the top, spluttering and gasping for air as his head broke the sea surface. He noticed that the striped fish swimming around him seemed to be wearing puzzled looks on their faces and wondered if he was going mad. Shaking his head violently, making salty water spray in all directions (the fishes looked amused), he swam back to the boat and hoisted himself over the side just in time for a boat packed full of tourists to be able to see him in all his glory. He gave a quick wave, grinned to himself and entered the cabin to redress.

It was just his luck to encounter an evening tourist boat at just the wrong moment. Ah well, James decided not to dwell on it – from the looks on their faces, they had been impressed by his package. He just hoped that none of them had taken photographs. He settled down for a nights sleep. This time he slept soundly, content with the progress that he had made and the fact that it would only take a few more days sailing and sleeping in the little boat before he reached his destination.

James got up the next morning and sailed, full throttle, towards his destination. A few boring days followed in which he had no more flashbacks and managed not to expose himself to any more innocent tourists. He rechecked the route on the last morning and was relieved when he saw his destination on the horizon. There were a lot of small boats around and he found that people kept waving to him. He waved back and wearily steered the boat into dock at Portsmouth Harbour.

Here, he packed his essentials and valuables into a large backpack, walked out of the cabin (making sure to lock the door behind him) and stepped ashore. Needing money in the form of pounds sterling, he managed to sell his boat – The Searching – for a large amount of said pounds. The buyer marvelled at the unique qualities of the boat and was pleased of the free bonus of the items contained within.

James got through customs using a fake passport from Rendakadavra. Now he wasn't sure where to go. He could've lived anywhere. He thought about just asking people if they knew him, but he knew that it would probably be useless – who'd remember him after nearly fifteen years? If anyone did remember him they'd probably have assumed that he was dead by now anyway. He couldn't look people up in a phone book because his memories had yet to reveal to him any surnames – he didn't even know his _own _surname.

So James wandered around. He found the pebbly seashore and finally hurled pebbles into the calm waves of the Solent, smiling to himself as he did so. As he thought about where to go, fate seemed to intervene. A leaflet flew towards him and got blocked from flying any further by his bag.

James picked up the leaflet and read.

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**TRACK TRAVEL**

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_Fancy a day shopping in the capital, but _don't_ fancy driving?_

_Come to one of Portsmouth's train stations for the cheapest fares to London on one of our fast-track trains._

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Fate, thought James, is there any such thing? He grabbed a few more pebbles, hurled them into the sea in one throw and took off towards the address advertised on the leaflet.


	4. Big City, Small Pub

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognise. Characters, places, spells – anything from the Harry Potter books are not mine. I am simply a poor student who had an idea that begged to be written!_

_Okay, I feel majorly guilty for not updating for so long – I got a Saturday job in August and started college in September. Also, one of my relatives died in October._

_Every time I feel like writing I ALWAYS realise that I have some college work I've got to do, like a history essay or a German speech, and after that I don't have any time or I just don't feel like writing anymore. Anyway, I'll quit rambling._

_With many thanks (seriously) to child-of-scorpio, Slytherin Rogue, Eric2 (great guess! How predictable am I?!), Nicki101 and leiselmae (your review made me feel really guilty and inspired me to write this chapter!)._

_Enjoy!_

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**James' Duel **

_Big City, Little Pub_

James found himself jiggling with excitement as he stood on the platform at Portsmouth Harbour. Quite why, he knew not. It had been a long time since he'd travelled on a train – he knew that much because there hadn't been any trains on Rendakadavra. Although there were two ticket booths, James had easily worked out how to use the ticket machines and had found the right platform for the next train to his chosen destination, the time that the train would be leaving Portsmouth and the time that he'd reach Kings Cross.

The train pulled up and James climbed aboard. He found the food carriage and bought a pile of cakes and sweets before settling down in one of the first class carriages. The carriage was shabby – the small rectangular mirrors above each row of seats were cracked, 3 of the head covers were missing and two of the seats had rips in the material, with stuffing bursting out.

James lay back across one of the rows of seats and stared at the landscape flashing by the window. After a while it got boring so he counted the amount of paint pieces flaking off the ceiling. Of course, that eventually got dead boring too, so James sat up and scoffed most of his pile of food. Then he weighed up whether it was worth the effort to prank a random person – after deciding it wasn't, he sat back and fell asleep to the gentle bumps of the train.

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_"So, who shall we honour with the first Marauder prank of the year?" A short, mousy looking boy asked._

_Sirius, whom James remembered from the previous memory, turned to him. "Any preference James?"_

_James stood for a few minutes, thoughts rushing through his head. "You guys go ahead, I've got to go and brief the Prefects."_

_Remus stood to follow James to the meeting. "Sorry Sirius, you two are on your own – I'm sure you'll think of something highly inventive and incredibly amusing"_

_James smirked and said "Not likely" as he exited the compartment._

_Sirius shouted "I HEARD THAT" at his retreating back and James turned around and gave him the V sign._

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At this point James blearily opened one eye and sighted a drunken tramp lying on a bench at a train station as the train sped past. He closed his eye and instantly went back to sleep, resurfacing in the memory slightly later on, after the meeting.

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_Remus turned to look at James as the pair exited the prefect briefing duty meeting. _

_"Do you think this was them or just some wannabe prankster?"_

_James quickly scanned the corridor. "Wannabe prankster, it's got to be. They aren't THIS crap without us are they?"_

_"Well," Remus replied, "let's face it, we are the brains behind the operations."_

_James gave a chuckle and burst out laughing as he turned the corner to see the prank that Sirius and Peter had done._

_"Okay, I take it back." James managed to say between laughs. "You ARE good at pranks."_

_"I know Prongs, I know." Sirius replied with a smirk._

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James awoke with a jolt and found that the train had stopped at his destination. He grabbed his bag, chucked his wrappers in the bin and clambered off the train, taking great delight in slamming the train door behind him – somehow it just felt good.

He scanned the underground maps to see if he recognised the names of any places, found that he didn't and decided to walk around and see if he recognised anywhere instead. He wandered around for hours without any luck and quickly ate a fast food meal before going to the toilet.

James paid the 20p, went to the toilet and washed his hands before surveying his tired face in the mirror. That's when something happened. James watched, bewildered, as his face started to lengthen and grow fur. He felt the rest of his body alter and soon found himself facing a full grown stag in the mirror.

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__James found himself in a forest, galloping along slowly, allowing a werewolf, a huge dog, and a rat to keep up with him. He looked up and saw his antlers; he looked down and saw his hooves._

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James shook himself and was pleased to see a human face in the mirror this time. Surely that couldn't have been a memory. Since when was it possible for a human to morph into an animal?! 

Luckily nobody else was in the toilets, James thought. He shook himself again. Why did it matter? It was only some sort of hallucination or a memory of a dream or something. He turned and walked towards the exit.

"I saw that." A voice from the very corner of the room uttered.

James turned to see a drunken old man crouched in the corner. "Saw _what?_" he asked.

"You know." The old drunkard replied.

"Actually," said James, "I don't"

The old man's eyes narrowed. "You morphed into a stag. Bloody great antlers an' all. Don't try and lie to me youngun, I've 'ad my fair share of hallucinations, and that was not one of 'em."

"I assure you it was, you bitter old git." James briskly walked away from the drunken fool.

James walked straight ahead, pushing through the crowds until he found himself outside on the main shopping street. He took a deep breath, pulled the hood of his coat up to prevent his hair getting completely rain-soaked and scanned the streets before spotting what he was looking for. James pulled out his wallet and headed for the nearest pub.

He stalked in, bought a beer at the bar (where the bartender gave him a strange look) and plonked himself down on a seat in one corner of the pub. The pub had a lot of customers, which seemed quite strange to James, as it was so small and shabby. He pretended not to notice some very un-human looking creatures talking in one corner.

James noticed people going through a door to one side and curiously stalked through the door to see what was there. A few moments later, he found himself tapping some bricks in a wall in some sort of sequence that he seemed to know. To his amazement, the wall started to move, revealing a shopping centre beyond. His feet took him through the archway and we wandered down the street in awe, staring at the strange shops that he had stumbled upon. Somehow the shops seemed familiar and James was sure that he'd been here before – he was going down the right path, inching ever closer to the truth.

James halted in front of a shop named _Quality Quidditch Supplies _and gazed in at a sleek broomstick in the window display. He felt an odd urge to ride it. Turning to the right, he saw a gangly boy with ginger hair, and a mousy looking girl with frizzy brown hair walking his way, waving at him as if they knew him.

As they approached, the boy gave him a strange look and then spoke.

"'Ere Harry, have you taken an ageing potion or something?"

James saw the baby in his arms again; James saw the Dark Mark, James saw Voldemort.

James collapsed.

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_You know what I'm going to say – please review! (It really does makes me write the next chapter more quickly!)_

_Tanya_


	5. In which it all comes flooding back and ...

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognise. Characters, places, spells – anything from the Harry Potter books are not mine. I am simply a poor student with a severe lack of money and spare time._

_This chapter is dedicated to all those of you who are in bands, which go and play Christmas music in the streets. I know what it's like to freeze your butt off for hours._

_And to Karen, who briefly features in this chapter as a wizened old weather witch. Today I said that it was her fault that it was freezing cold outside and she admitted that it was indeed her fault. So I said she was a weather witch, she agreed and I said that I'd put her in my fanfic (just to annoy her), but she said 'go on then'._

_With thanks to **HP-Scriptor, RoschLupin-Black, Eric2, Delta74, leiselmae, S**__**erenitystone, Xandria Nirvana and Morgaine of the Fairies!**_

Okay, this is proof of the fact that I'm really not very good at writing battles (I hope it's not _too _bad!).

* * *

**James' Duel**

_The 'Final' Moments_

James suffered in his own comatose world, finding the truth of what had happened to him, remembering things that caused him more pain than he thought he could ever cope with. One memory stood in the foreground – his last memory before Rendakadavra.

* * *

_James gathered all his courage as the front door blew off its hinges. He knew that he had to protect Harry and Lily – he didn't care what happened to him, as long as they were safe._

_Before Voldemort reached him, he shouted "Lily, take Harry and go! It's Him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off – " And that was what he was going to do._

_James faced Voldemort with all his strength. He didn't shake; he didn't tremble. James wasn't going to show that deep down he was scared for his family; James wasn't going to give Voldemort the upper hand. He would fight to the death, he would fight with all his might – _**he would give the old geezer a run for his money**

_The old geezer went straight for in for the kill – his plan was to kill Harry, whoever dared to stand in his way would get blasted too._

_"Avada Kedav-"_

_James performed a powerful shield spell as Voldemort started to speak and then fired back with a leg-breaking spell. Unfortunately, Voldemort's resistance seemed to be higher than usual, and James didn't get to hear his bones crack. He heard them give an almighty creak and snatched the pause to perform another spell._

_"Animaabripio!"_

_Voldemort blocked the spell and laughed at James, but James could tell that he was still in pain from the leg-breaking spell, so he laughed back._

_"Cataractaconglacio!"_

_James hastily reinforced his shield and added layers as a huge shower of deathly cold water fell around him_

_"Inflammo!"_

_Voldemort's shield absorbed the fireballs as though they were droplets of rain. He cocked an eyebrow._

_"Is that the best you can do Potter?"_

_James ignored the taunt and inundated Voldemort with a torrent of powerful spells. Voldemort managed to fire a few back, but James' spells had definitely done Voldemort some damage._

_His legs seemed to be giving him a lot more pain than before and he could barely walk. His robes were badly burnt – he had managed to extinguish the flames quite swiftly, but his robes were still smoking. His face was a sore red, like a huge boil, and his eyes were slightly unfocused._

_James had been hit quite badly by Voldemort's counter attack. The ends of his hair had been burnt – the smell of burnt hair hung in the hair and mixed with the burnt robe smell coming from Voldemort. His stomach had been slashed and he could feel the blood seeping out. James could feel his life force being slowly dragged away._

_Voldemort staggered closer and lifted his wand._

_James gathered his last bit of strength._

_"REND-"__"-A K-" "AD-" "-AVRA!"_

_James' spell bounced off Voldemort's shield and flew back at him, along with Voldemort's own spell. James had no strength to do anything but watch as the purple and green flashes of light mixed with each other and headed for him. _

_The spells seemed to move in slow motion before they hit James squarely in the stomach and he fell, with a graceless thump, to the ground, smashing his head against the wall as he did so. _

_James watched as the world grew fuzzy and Voldemort stumbled upstairs. _**He knew he had failed.**

* * *

The staff of St.Mungos battled to save the man's life. Three times they watched the monitor screens show an erratic pattern of thought; three times they watched the man's body twitch and lash out as though he thought he could change whatever was going on inside his head; three times they had to revive him. 

His identity was another problem. They found fake muggle passports in the man's bag, but nothing that could lead them to his true identity. They knew that the bloke was a wizard, but they couldn't find his wand. Nobody had reported a man of his description missing.

So they waited. They couldn't report him on the Wizarding Wireless Network because he might be hiding from someone. He could've been attacked by Voldemort or a Death Eater and barely escaped. Dark times had fallen on them once more and they could never be too careful.

* * *

Weeks later, the man awoke. The Healers thought that he resembled Harry Potter and were suspicious of him. James didn't care. Within minutes of waking up, he leapt out of bed, pulled his clothes on and ventured back to Diagon Alley. 

James rushed to Gringott's and exchanged some of his muggle pound notes for Galleons, Sickles and Knuts. He hurried through the crowds and hastily bought basic supplies from each shop, before tentatively stepping through the door of Ollivanders.

The doorbell tinkled lightly as James entered and he saw old Ollivander standing with a wizened old weather witch. He walked to one side and browsed through the various wand accessories while he waited. Before long, James heard the chink of money being handed over.

"A fine wand Miss Karen, thank you for your custom."

"Thank _you, _Mr Ollivander."

James turned around when he heard the tinkle of the doorbell as the wizened old weather witch exited the shop.

The old man jumped in surprised when he saw James.

"But your- you were – dead."

James shook his head. "Trust me, Mr. Ollivander, I'm not, nor ever have been, dead. Something happened when I fought Voldemort. It's too lengthy to explain right now, but I really need a wand before I see Dumbledore. It's not safe walking around without a wand."

James hesitated. "Of course – I mean – is Dumbledore still alive?"

Mr Ollivander's wide, pale silvery eyes searched James' for a while before he slowly nodded in agreement.

"Yes, yes. I see that you do not lie Mr Potter and I recognise that it is of the utmost importance that you find Dumbledore. You are right – these times are too dangerous to walk around unarmed."

He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket and it swiftly measured James' arms, head and fingers. It stopped and Mr Ollivander climbed one of the creaky old ladders and stretched to reach the box at the very top of the stack. He climbed back down and dusted the box off before pulling out the wand that it contained.

"This is the closest match to your old wand, Mr Potter. Mahogany, eleven inches, pliable, powerful – excellent for transfiguration. The only difference is that it contains hair from a different unicorn."

He handed the wand to James, who gave it a quick wave.

"Hmmmm…."

Mr Ollivander took the wand back and went back to the shelves. He spent what seemed like forever searching through the boxes before he walked back to James with what looked like the same wand in his hand.

He caught James' puzzled look and chuckled lightly.

"Not the same wand Mr Potter – similar though. It contains dragon heartstring instead of unicorn hair."

James took the wand and felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He mumbled an incantation and grinned as the shop floor turned into a dance floor.

Mr Ollivander smiled and gave James the price of the wand. As James turned to leave, he heard Mr Ollivander's voice behind him.

"Good luck, Mr Potter. Good luck."

* * *

**Please give me a review for Christmas! Merry Christmas to everyone and a Happy New Year!**

**Tanya**


	6. Searching James, Ron and Hermione!

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognise. Characters, places, spells – anything from the Harry Potter books are not mine. I am simply a poor student with a severe lack of money and spare time._

_The train to London from Portsmouth is not the cheapest way to get there – James would've been far better off going by coach (he should've asked me before he got the ticket!)._

_I am sorry for the major delay in getting this chapter done. College work + work just gets in the way. Also, I got a new computer – I had half this chapter done on the other computer, but it's just lying on the floor – I tried to set it up the other day, but it wouldn't co-operate.

* * *

_

**James' Duel**

_Finding Dumbledore: Part I_

Hermione sighed and flopped the paper down onto the table.

"There's absolutely nothing about that bloke in here."

Ron grinned to himself.

"Good. That means we can forget about him. Obviously the ministry have sorted him out or – or he's some geezer who just happens to be unlucky enough to look like Harry. If he was dangerous or something, they must've sorted him out. And if they hadn't sorted him out then they would have told Harry something to put him on his guard and he would've been in _The Daily Prophet_."

Hermione gave Ron a look of disbelief.

"Don't be such an idiot. What with Voldemort and all the dodgy things that have been happening lately – he could be anyone; he could be up to anything."

Ron smiled and then gulped when he saw that Hermione was deadly serious.

"So, er, what do you suggest we do?"

Hermione averted her eyes.

"Look Ron, I know it's dangerous and everything, but I think we should investigate it ourselves. If we tell anyone else they'll tell Harry and then the whole thing could get blown out of proportion – what if he _is _just someone who happens to look like him? We don't want to hassle everyone for nothing."

Ron was silent for a while, and then he nodded slowly.

"Okay, where do we start?"

* * *

James sauntered along with his new wand and new clothes. He was at a loss as to how to find Dumbledore. He couldn't apparate to Hogwarts and it was the summer holidays anyway – where would Dumbledore be? 

James had purchased _The Daily Prophet _earlier on and had seen that the war was still on. After seeing the current news in print, James had felt an urge to know what had been happening for the years that he'd been absent. He had gone to a library and skim read a stack of old newspapers, then he had read a few general modern history books and some books containing spells that had recently been invented. This made him feel more up to date.

Still – where to find Dumbledore? James had thought of Sirius – and then read about his imprisonment and his escape. He would be even harder to find. At least if James could prove who he was he could clear Sirius' name.

_The Daily Prophet _said nothing about whether Dumbledore was helping the ministry, but James suspected that he was. Reading between the lines, it seemed quite obvious that Dumbledore had had some part in at least a few of the investigations that had been going on.

James twirled a Galleon between his fingers. He either needed to concoct a devious and daring plan to get himself into the ministry unnoticed and unscathed or he needed to send Dumbledore a message somehow. The Order of the Phoenix had ways of communicating, but James was sure that they would've been updated by now. An owl seemed to be a safe bet though – it could be intercepted, but James was pretty sure that any enemy would just laugh and assume that some nutter was writing to Dumbledore. And that was if they even managed to read the letter – James knew many different ways of concealing what was written.

The owl seemed to be the best bet in terms of safety – it was more likely that the owl would actually reach Dumbledore. If James _did _get into the ministry, Dumbledore might not even be there – from experience James knew that he wasn't the type of person to be in one place for too long and that he wasn't usually where you expected him to be.

But then again, _Dumbledore_ might think that the owl was all a big joke too. If James managed to find him at the ministry he'd be able to talk to him face to face and _prove_ that he was himself.

James flipped the Galleon.

* * *

The healers were reluctant to reveal anything about James. Though they didn't have much _to_ reveal, they were bound by patient confidentiality. 

Hermione had insisted on inquiring about him without Ron there. She was all sweetness and fake concern for 'the poor man that just collapsed in the street'.

"Look, I just want to know if he's okay – that's all. He just collapsed right in front of me and one of my friends in the street – we got him here. We just want to know whether he's alright now – you know, whether we got him here quick enough and everything." She pleaded, for what seemed to be the thirty fifth time.

The two healers that Hermione was questioning looked at each other.Eventually one of them spoke.

"You can put your mind at rest. The man you bought in picked up his stuff and strode out of here a few days ago. As far as we know, he's fine. I can't tell you any more than that."

Hermione let her face fall into a look of relief.

"Thank goodness. That's so comforting to know. Did you find out who he was?"

The healer shook his head. "No, no we didn't. We have to get back to work."

The healers walked back towards the ward that they both worked on, feeling that somehow they had been conned into giving up information. Hermione grinned.

* * *

James stood in the foyer of the ministry of magic, where he had apparated to. Of course he didn't look like himself – he had used his Auror knowledge of disguise to alter his appearance. He looked completely different, but not odd. Just like a regular guy who went about his boring desk job and blended in with the wallpaper on a regular basis. 

He shuffled around with the suitcase (he had transfigured his bag) at his feet to avoid suspicion. Getting past the security wizard at the ministry desk was what was worrying him. He couldn't use his real name, but he couldn't risk pretending to be someone else either – if they happened to be at the ministry already, his plan was foiled and he didn't even know the names of many people who worked at the ministry anymore – only those who were mentioned in the paper.

Then a thought struck him. He could just walk past like all the other ministry wizards who worked there were doing. He blended in – why would anyone suspect him? Hopefully he wouldn't be noticed – he was willing to take the chance.

James casually walked down the corridor and through the golden gates. He was careful not to make eye contact with anyone for too long as he carried on walking until he reached the lift.

Exiting on level 2, James went to the men's toilets and went into a cubicle. Luckily, nobody else was there. James left the door of his toilet cubicle half open, quickly shrunk the suitcase and it in his pocket. It weighed him down on one side a bit, but it didn't matter. He performed a Disillusionment Charm on himself, slid out of the half open cubicle, opened the door to the toilets a slit and slid out into the corridor.

And there he stood for a while, just outside the Auror offices, catching whispers and snippets of Auror business. He thought about the lax security and how he would write a report on it and do something about it if he ever got to be an Auror again. Then he heard something of interest.

"…Dumbledore? No, he's gone back to Hogwarts…something about needing to appoint a new Defence against the Dark Arts…interviews…"

A-ha, thought James.

* * *

_A HUGE thank you to everyone who submitted a review for the chapter 5 - I really do appreciate it. :0) Please review again (I promise to update sooner!)._

Tanya


	7. Finding, telling and applying

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognise. Characters, places, spells – anything from the Harry Potter books are not mine. I am simply a poor student with a severe lack of money and spare time.

* * *

_

**James' Duel**

_Finding Dumbledore: Part 2: Take Me On_

Hogwarts security seemed a bit…_lax. _After apparating to Hogsmeade, James walked across the Hogwarts grounds and straight through the front entrance of the castle without any problems.

Who would be going for the Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching job though? James tried to think of people, but could only think of a few old timers who would possibly apply for the job – they could be dead by now. People could have had all sorts of career changes since he'd been gone and the job had been unpopular for a long time anyway.

Even though they were fully curable in the wizarding world, James didn't want to give Dumbledore a heart attack by just walking in as himself. He was also wary of the other people who might see him there, so he remained as the blend-in-with-the-wallpaper ministry worker whom he was already disguised as. Eventually he would have to revert back to his normal form to attempt to prove who he was to Dumbledore, but just for now he wasn't James Potter.

* * *

Disguised James walked along the corridors until he found the entrance to Dumbledore's office. The stone gargoyle leapt aside before James could even begin to guess the password and Severus Snape strode out, red faced, and glared at James before storming off. 

Dumbledore himself appeared a few seconds later, looking very old and worn. He gave James a light smile and gestured for him to follow him up to his office. Once inside they both sat down and Dumbledore let out a long sigh and shook his head as if to clear certain thoughts from it before he spoke to James.

"I assume, and hope that you are here to apply for the job of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"Well…" To be honest, James thought that teaching might be quite interesting, but it might be a bit awkward for Harry. "…not –"

"Fantastic. What experience do you have?" Before James could even reply Dumbledore had butted in, letting his hope for another applicant get the better of him.

"Er…" James dragged his hands through his hair, trying to go along with Dumbledore. "I've got full Auror training and the experience of working as an Auror. And I've fought Voldemort on several occasions."

"Good, good." Dumbledore replied, and then it seemed to sink in. He lowered his spectacles slightly to get a better look at James.

"Maybe you're overqualified for this job – right now we need all the Aurors we can get."

James cleared his throat. "I'm about 14 odd years out of practise. I think that teaching would be a good way to get back into everything."

"And what did you say your name was?"

"I didn't."

"Oh…well, I can't say that I recognise you at all."

"Ah. I'm in disguise, so that's a good thing." James grinned. He was really getting into the interview now.

"Yes, a good demonstration of disguising oneself beyond all recognition. This certainly shows some of your expertise in the subject area. The question of your identity still remains though." The old man looked at James expectantly.

"This might be a bit of a shock."

"Go ahead."

"I'm James Potter."

* * *

"So, what now?" Ron asked Hermione. 

"Is there anywhere else we can go from here? I mean, we can't go round asking random people because we'd be giving too much information away." Hermione looked to Ron for an answer.

"And people are getting suspicious of you guys already. What are you two sneaking around for?"

Harry interrupted Hermione and Ron's 'quiet' conversation rather abruptly, causing Ron to let out a small scream and Hermione to let out a small gasp.

"Christ Harry, what are you doing sneaking up on us like that?"

"Christ Ron, what are you doing sneaking around and keeping secrets?"

Hermione looked from one annoyed face to another and sighed.

"Harry, we're not keeping secrets. We just saw…something and we wanted to find out more before we worried anyone with it."

"Right. So…what was it?"

Hermione looked unsure of whether to say anything.

"Fine, be like that." Harry turned to leave.

"Hey, wait." Ron was also unsure of himself and very uneasy about what he was about to do.

"We saw – we saw a…bloke."

Harry smiled a little. "A bloke?"

"Er…yeah…a-a bloke-"

Hermione decided to take over. "We saw a man who looked like you, and we thought it might be you after you'd taken an ageing potion. But then he collapsed and they took him to St. Mungo's. We went there and they didn't know who he was."

"Weird."

"Yeah, that's what we thought."

* * *

Dumbledore's eyebrows disappeared into his hair and his beard rolled up like a blind. He stared intently at James, as if he could determine his identity through the disguise. 

"Erm…I'll lose the disguise if you want."

James stood up and performed the counter curses on himself and soon stood before Dumbledore with his usual appearance. He sat back down and stared back at the shocked Dumbledore, who seemed to be stuck in position. He waved a hand in front of his face.

Dumbledore shook his head. "This, I did not expect. At all…I must be getting old-"

"Well, I didn't want to mention that, but-"

"If you are James Potter, how did you survive Voldemort? And where have you been for the last 14 odd years?"

He placed his glasses on the table in front of him and summoned up a large pot of tea, from which he poured out two tankards and added milk.

"It's a long story."

Dumbledore nodded and summoned up a few more pots of tea.

* * *

A few hours later James had finished telling Dumbledore his whole story and proceeded to ask questions about Harry – he knew what had happened to Lily from the papers already. It still felt raw in his heart, but adrenaline held back the pain and tears, keeping him focused on finding Harry before he broke down. 

"I'm sure he'll want to tell you himself and get to know you as well, once he comes round to the idea of you still being alive."

James just nodded. "So, do you need proof of what I'm telling you?"

"Yes. Times are just like they were when you left us, but they're getting worse. A lot worse. I know that you must've been to Rendakadavra because of your description of it. I ventured there as a tourist once and had a bit of an unpleasant experience. Do you have the fake passport you said you had?"

James pulled out his fake Rendakadavra passport and studied Dumbledore's reaction to it. His forehead was wrinkled and his nose scrunched up.

"However, this is the first time I've heard of someone getting there in such a way. I've heard of other cases where spells have mixed during duels and caused unpleasant or unpredicted consequences, but never this particular one."

"I can produce my Patronus if that would help."

"Hmmm…I think the best thing for you to do would be to transform into your animagus form. From your detailed account of events and from your knowledge of certain things before you left us, things that only James Potter would know, I believe that you are who you say you are. The ministry will, no doubt, want to perform certain spells and tests on you to check your identity for themselves and will also want to know about the spell mixing consequence in as much detail as they can."

"So, why the animagus?"

"To concrete your identity to me and to members of the Order and, most importantly, to Harry. You've read about his adventures in the papers – he doesn't exactly trust the Ministry very much, so their word won't convince him."

"Right."

James stood up and transformed for the first time in 14 odd years (well, not including the toilet/tramp incident, which was an accident).

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at him.

"Welcome back, Mr Potter."

James transformed back into his human form and performed the Patronus charm to further prove his identity.

"To the ministry?" James asked Dumbledore, who seemed to be lost in thought once again.

"To the ministry." Dumbledore confirmed as he and James left his office.

"Hang on." They both halted and Dumbledore gave James a questioning look. "Did I get the job?"

* * *

_A/N: I've reuploaded this chapter just to add in something I thought of after I'd uploaded the first time. So far 91 page views and 0 reviews. I'm feeling very unloved. Anyway, just this:__  
Please drop me a line, and maybe add in which way you would like it to continue:  
1. At the end of Harry's fourth year, with Sirius still alive etc.  
2. At the end of Harry's fifth year, with Sirius dead.  
3. At the end of Harry's fifth year, with Sirius alive and having been found innocent._


	8. Is he fake? Clearing things up

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognise. Characters, places, spells – anything from the Harry Potter books are not mine. I am simply a poor student with a severe lack of money. All that's mine is the plot._

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

**James' Duel**

_Is he fake?_

"So, what were you planning on secretly doing about this bloke?" Harry asked, still puzzled and somewhat suspicious, but mostly annoyed that they hadn't told him. It was the principle of it – it concerned him, just like so much other stuff that was concealed from him. Having Dumbledore and Co hide things from him was one thing (that he hated), but having his friends doing it seemed a whole lot worse.

"Well," Hermione sighed, "that's just what we were talking about when you came in. We don't know what we're going to do next."

Harry rubbed his forehead, for once experiencing a normal headache rather than one caused by his scar.

"I haven't got any relations in the world apart from the Dursleys, so he's definitely not family."

A thought came to Ron. "What about, like when we used Polyjuice Potion? Maybe he's doing that to look like you for some odd reason."

Harry raised one eyebrow and Hermione actually let out a short laugh. "Except that he somehow managed to look older than Harry."

"What good would it do him anyway? Nobody tells me anything," Harry input, with a note of bitterness in his voice, "and it would be obvious he was a fake when I went to school in September. It wouldn't be advantageous to him."

"You don't know how clever he is though or whether he's even sane. But even then we're forgetting he was in St. Mungo's unconscious for a long time – he wouldn't have been able to take Polyjuice Potion then."

"You're right, Hermione, except that we didn't _see _him when we went back there. We don't know whether he still looked the same when he left."

"We'll just have to wait and see then." Harry concluded.

"Harry, we should at least tell someone." Hermione protested.

Harry scowled. "What? That you saw someone who looked like me who collapsed? I'm sure there are plenty of people who look like me. Either way, I'm sure we can cope if anything happens."

Ron shook his head. "No mate, he looked _exactly _like you, but older. But I agree – we've done all we can, at least for now."

Hermione was looking worried. "We-"

"No Hermione. I don't want to rush into anything again, okay? You know what happened last time."

And that ended the subject once and for all. Or so they assumed.

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The ministry fell silent as James walked in with Dumbledore. The normal hustle and bustle and rush of people to-ing and fro-ing came to a wondrous halt as they all stared at the newcomer. The people who had been working there for years recognised James instantly and they all wondered different things; who was this impostor? Had Dumbledore actually gone off his rocker? Why were they letting him into the Ministry? Or could he actually be James Potter? And if he was, where the hell had he been all this time?

However off normality Dumbledore seemed to be going lately, they had to admit they had been wrong about things, like Sirius Black, for example. They should at least talk to this man, whoever he was, and give him a fair hearing.

The silence continued and lasted until James and Dumbledore reached the second level and entered the Auror office, where they bumped into Gawain Robards, who had recently been appointed Head of the Auror Office.

He looked at James disbelievingly, and then moved closer as if expecting to find that James was wearing a simple muggle disguise. Eventually he stepped back and scratched his chin.

"Care to explain, Dumbledore?" He asked.

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News travelled fast. The press – all of the smaller newspapers, magazines and the Daily Prophet, along with reporters from WWN and other radio stations gathered in the Atrium. Obviously they had tried their best to get inside the Ministry to level 2 and would've been at the windows trying to snap photos of 'James Potter' had the Ministry building not been underground.

Some had tried to enter the Ministry through the red telephone box, but had been refused entry. So, in the end some had resorted to apparating in, whilst the bulk of the reporters had decided to clog up the floo network because they were worried about getting splinched – they didn't know whether the security at the Ministry had been heightened or not.

Of course they tried to get past security, but Eric Munch was having none of it. He had let James in because he had been with Dumbledore and he had his wand checked etc. It was clear that this 'James Potter' couldn't just go walking around as he was. The reporters were an unwelcome addition to the Atrium. There was no way they would get past security and they knew it – even the ones who had sneakily tried to disguise themselves hadn't come anywhere near close to getting through. So they just stood waiting for a first glimpse of 'James Potter' or an official with any snippet of information that they could turn into a story. The golden prize would be a picture or a quote. A fabricated quote was never as effective.

For hours the reporters waited. Then, finally, a worn out harassed looking bloke in a smart blue robes stood before them, on the other side of the gates. Immediately the Atrium once again filled with the hubbub of noise from the reporters vying for attention and talking amongst themselves.

"Heh – hum." The worn out harassed looking bloke cleared his throat and the Atrium went silent. Hands clutched parchment and quills, poised to copy down whatever this man had to say, fingers hovered above camera buttons and recording equipment.

"Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic and Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror Office have issued the following statement concerning leaked rumours and whisperings to do with Mr James Potter:

It is correct that a man claiming to be James Potter, who was previously thought to have been murdered by Voldemort, entered the Ministry of Magic this morning with Albus Dumbledore, currently Head teacher at Hogwarts. He was allowed to enter after having his wand checked and went straight to the Auror Offices, where he was met by Gawain Robards.

The man is now undergoing extensive questioning and tests to prove his true identity beyond any doubt. As such, the Ministry will not be answering any questions about him until we are absolutely sure of who or what we are dealing with."

This refusal met with an uproar from the reporters, causing the reader to stop until the noise died down once more.

"From initial questions and tests we can, however, assure the public that we have found no connection to You-Know-Who or traces of any kind of unforgivable curse and do not believe this man to be dangerous.

We expect to be dealing with this man for several hours, if not overnight, before we can provide any more answers."

The scratching of quills filled the room as the reader finished and the shouting began again as the reader turned away and disappeared down the hall once more.

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The WWN newsflash interrupted the Weird Sisters at an inappropriate point in the music, but nobody in the Weasley household batted an eyelid. It was a common interruption nowadays and was the main reason why the radio tended to remain on whenever anyone was awake.

Mr Weasley was still at work, as were the twins, leaving Molly, Ginny and Ron along with Hermione and Harry, who were staying at the Burrow until school began again in September.

Being the nearest, Ginny reached over to the worktop and turned the radio up.

"We interrupt the Weird Sisters to bring you a perplexing story on which we have little information to impart. The James Potter riddle continues following a statement from top Ministry officials that failed to tell us much of consequence.

A man claiming to be James Potter entered the Ministry of Magic with Albus Dumbledore this morning and is being questioned and tested by top Ministry officials. All we have been told is that the man is not believed to be dangerous or associated with You-Know-Who and that no more information will be given until the Ministry are sure of his true identity, which they expect to take at least several hours longer, if not overnight.

As soon as we have obtained more information we shall update this story.

WWN News, bringing you the latest, quickest, always."

Ron's sausages dropped from his mouth in a most disgusting way, Hermione gaped, Ginny looked bewildered, Mrs Weasley stared at the radio as if it were broken and Harry's blood drained from his face.

For a few moments they just sat in shock. Harry was astonished; completely astonished, though he was 99 per cent sure that the man could not be his father. What ifs and hows crowded his mind.

In the end it was Ron who broke the disbelieving silence.

"Well, I told you he looked _exactly _like you but older."

Mrs Weasley turned to her son with a murderous glare. "You _what_?"

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_A/N: Seemed an apt place to finish. On to the next chapter! Sorry it took so long, the page view count was inspiring, but review count wasn't. Either way, I am continuing at the end of Harry's fifth year/beginning of sixth year with Sirius dead. This is not to say that he won't be in it later on. The next chapter is already part done and I am sure of the plot, so an update will never take as long.  
The lines will not work for me and the uploading thing is being odd at the moment, so as soon as I can, I will reformat this chapter.  
The next update depends on when I can finish the chapter and two things a) reviews and b) me - I got my A level results today and am going to celebrate! (anyone who says that A levels are getting easier is wrong - they aren't...and people who took their A levels decades ago generally have no clue what they are like now and, as such, should not pass comment.)._

_Tanya :D_


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